


Dad Skills

by shambling



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Hair Braiding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24305851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shambling/pseuds/shambling
Summary: "No offence Doctor but, I don't honestly believe you know how to plait hair"
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor & Clara Oswin Oswald
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Dad Skills

“Clara are you ready yet? You've been in there forever.” The Doctor's voice echoed through the halls to the doorway, making Clara start and drop a hairpin. Cursing him slightly, she called back “I'm just doing my hair, give me a minute.” She dropped her voice as she searched for another pin, one hand trying to hold the whole confection together, “Because some of us have hair that needs doing.”

“Why? It looks fine, its all sort of, brown and, flow-y,” She doesn't have to be able to see him to know the hand movements he's making, although flow-y is a relatively polite word by his usual standards. His voice is getting louder though, which suggests he's coming to find her in the wardrobe. Great, the last thing she needs is an irate immortal scotsman trying to give her hairdressing tips. She had become so absorbed in trying to hold the elaborate curls and plaits together, and in being pre-emptively annoyed at him, that she didn't hear him approach until he was right behind her. “Need a hand?” Clara flinched and let go, and all the work she'd put in cascaded down again into a tangle. “Doctor!” She admonished, “I nearly had it there. You startled me.”

The Doctor tried to look contrite, or at least, thats what Clara decided she wanted to read into his expression, reflected back at her in the mirror, before she began to pick up the hair pins again. “Would you like a hand? Your arms are quite short that probably makes it difficult to reach the back of your head. And you can't see it.” She had to reach deep into her reserves of patience, normally used for answering the question “But why miss” before she could trust herself to respond at all politely. “No offence Doctor, but, what do you know about doing hair? And before you come at me with your “dad skills” you can't remember your last regeneration, you can't even necessarily remember where you've left me whilst you go to get coffee.” The Doctor made a little noise, the little noise that indicated he didn't agree with her but was letting it slide. “It's different isn't it? If you tried to hold all those long lifetimes in your head you'd go mad, but hands, hands are different, hands know how to do stuff without you even necessarily telling them to. “What does that even mean?” but she had relented, and held out the hairbrush for him. He patted the back of the chair, indicated for her to sit back down, “Over here,” she eyed him uncertainly, “You're short Clara but you're not that short, I need to see the top of your hair if i'm going to do this properly.” Clara sighed a little, relented and took the seat. “Anyway, well, it's simple isn't it? You're young, you can probably type quite well, but you don't have to think about where you're putting each finger do you? Not really. Bits of your body, they remember how to do stuff. Its like when you think about your breathing and suddenly it occupies all of your mind, but when you're busy doing other things it just gets on with it.”

Throughout his rambling explanation, he had begun to gently brush Clara's hair, smoothing out tangles and returning it to a gentle sweep. If Clara had been pushed, she would have said it was quite tender. “So you're telling me,” she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose briefly, “that your hands remember how to plait hair from, what? Susan? Longer ago than that?”

“Something like that yes. Tell me if it hurts.” He started to gather her hair up, plaiting it expertly as though he'd been doing it all his life, all his lives. “Tell me something Clara, talk to me, its like when you're trying not to think about breathing and thats all you can do, Tell me something or i'll think about my hands and we'll never make it to the Globe in time for curtain up.” Clara laughed, trying to think of something, anything to say, trying not to focus too hard on the strange image before her. “Okay, well, my minds gone blank,” she started, “Like when someone says don't smile or don't think about elephants or don't think about your hands, and thats all you can do right?”

“Right.” he has secured the bottom of the plait now and is working to curl the sides up, twisting them gently around his fingers and securing them in. “But I suppose I can just say every thought that crosses my mind if it helps.” The Doctor made an encouraging noise, holding a number of hairgrips in his teeth, “So i'm thinking that this is strange, i'm thinking that I can remember you saying you'd always remember when you were your past self, and that you immediately forgot, but that somehow in amongst all of that you can remember how to plait hair, and how that must be really strange to experience for you as well as for me. I'm thinking that I can't remember the last time someone did my hair for me, but I think it might have been my mum? And i'm thinking about how my Dad learned to plait hair using my barbie dolls at the same time I did; and how his friends daughter taught us both. I'm wondering where you learned to plait hair, and struggling to imagine you as a young man with a young granddaughter fussing over her. And, and...” She trailed off, finally meeting her own eyes in the mirror. “And thats amazing.” She said finally, as the Doctor put the final curl into place. For a brief beautiful moment they smiled at one another, as though looking in a reflection was like they weren't both there. And then the Doctor clapped his hands and moved away. “Come on Clara, we don't want to be late, and you've dressed the part so nicely eh?”

Clara tore her eyes away from her own reflection and followed after him, jogging slightly to catch up.

**Author's Note:**

> Rewatching the series got me wondering how Clara manages some of her more elaborate hairstyles. (You know, without the aid of a hair and makeup department) and this image came to mind; tired Dad doctor just patting a chair like "come here i'll sort it out". I hope it makes other people smile as much as me!


End file.
